Monthly Archives: March 2006

Sweetheart Like You

Nice day today. Finally felt like spring had sprung. Sprung enough for me to forego the overcoat and consider retiring it for the winter. Didn’t hustle again, took my time. No sweat. Nelson Neversweat, that’s me. Had an egg sandwich courtesy of Tony at Smilers. Had a nice short discussion with him about Bob Marley and the state of reggae in general. He laughed hard at my ragamuffin comment.

Walked up to work, listening to Bob Marley’s live version of Want More. Killer kick ass version. Heavy on the balls if you know what I mean. If you don’t, I meant heavy on the bass. And bass is an integral part of reggae music.

It was a nice day to wander around whenever I could, and I did when I had to get some fruit for the office. The temperature was climbing towards sixty. I got back to the office and Helen Devilakos and the PB were waiting for me. This was the follow up meeting to the meeting two weeks ago when we ‘sorted it all out’. The meeting lasted less than three minutes.

Helen: Everything ok?

Me: Yes.

PB: Yes.

Helen: You sure?

Me: Yes we’re cooperating with each other.

PB: Yes, we are.

Helen: Ok. That’s about it then.

A waste of time that allowed Helen to think she’s doing a bang up job as a Human Resources director.

I shrugged it all off. It was meaningless. I continue to be totally apathetic at the office lately. I still do my job and I still do it well, but I really don’t care about how things go. Their loss.

Hung outside a lot with Darrell, a guy who’s doing electrical systems in the building. He usually turns up when I run outside for a smoke. Nice guy. Likes cigars too. We swapped a Padron 5000 for a La Flor Dominicana. I have to say the Padron was in better condition than the La Flor. But he’s a nice guy and I didn’t say anything.

Got through the day when Song called. He and his boyfriend Ray were in Manhattan and were planning on having dinner. They invited Bill and I, but Bill had a wake to attend to in the Bronx. So I went. Ray’s a real nice guy. He and Song seem to compliment each other very well. They are a great couple.

We had dinner at a Thai restaurant on west 48th st. Pongsri Thai Restaurant they call it. Nice place. I was there once before in the nineties when half of it was a gay bar. Now it’s a Thai Restaurant. Funny how that happens. After dinner Song, Ray and I walked through Times Square where I regaled them with stories on how bad Times Square used to be. I told them of my St. Patrick’s Day story about losing my brother in the crowds and how I was the brave little 12 year old making my way through the madness to find brother Brian crying over losing me.

We walked over to the Hippodrome where they gave me a ride back to Hoboken. Quite nice. I told you they were good guys.

Outlaw Blues

There I was, it was almost midnight, and I had no money, with no idea where I was. Maureen dropped me off here, peeling off into the night. I must have said something to piss her off like that. But what it was I don’t know. Jesus, I’m only 24 years old and her I am in no man’s land. I wish I was still in college. It was all so much easier then.

What the fuck am I thinking? I’m free! No worries, nowhere to go. No money either which is worrying though. There I go thinking I can make a silk purse out of a sow’s arse, and then reality sets in, ‘Michael, you need to get your shit together pronto.’

Oh how I hate that voice in my head. A conscience? It pops up from time to time. But what was it that I said that made Maureen to leave me here? ‘Fuck you Michael! I don’t need this shit!’ But what shit was it? I checked my pockets again. I found twenty dollars a few weeks ago, what are the odds of it happening again?

Turns odd the odds weren’t very good at all. No money in these jeans. I walked along the side of the road, heading towards the lights ahead. I guess that’s a town. If my wallet wasn’t in Maureen’s car I’d at least have a bank card.

A car drove by. I put out my thumb to hitch a ride. Not a good idea, but the town seemed far away. I don’t even have my fucking cell phone. Also in the car I bet. Fucking Maureen! Fuck me!

No more cars approaching. Hard to tell distance in the dark. Hard to see at all. So fucking dark I can’t even see my hand in front of me.

I should’ve stayed in the city. I hate the country, I hate the woods. Give me artificial lighting any day.

Shit, I just twisted my ankle. Could things get anymore pathetic?

Wait. What was that? Sounded like a wolf. Maybe a dog. Great. Someone’s lost dog is stalking me, probably rabid. A pit bull probably with my fucking luck tonight.

Wait. I was talking to Gwen Garicki earlier. Maureen hates her. Maureen saw us sitting and laughing, and Maureen probably thought we were laughing at her. Fucking Maureen. There is nothing going on between Gwen and me. She’s a fucking lesbian! What the fuck?

That has to be it. I should’ve listened to Raul and not have anything to do with that crazy bitch. Raul knows the score. He was even engaged to Maureen at some point, before the drugs wore off. I wish he was here right now. He’s a pal. Maybe if I ever get to town, (man my ankle is killing me) I’ll call him collect.

Fuck. It’s Friday night. He’s either working at the bar, or screwing his landlord’s wife. Shit. I could call his brother Alberto, but what’s his fucking number?

Damn. I’m never going anywhere with Maureen again. Never.